


There, There Sweetie

by noxelementalist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Art, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Gen, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/pseuds/noxelementalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Joyce Summers receives a visitor</p>
            </blockquote>





	There, There Sweetie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyoneill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/gifts).



> Set around/shortly before BtVS season 3, episode 8 “Lovers Walk"

Joyce sighed as she looked around the empty gallery. It had been pouring rain since she walked in that morning, and she was just about to head into the back and go home when the doorbell dinged. “Welcome to the Joyce Summers Gallery of Art, where we sell attractive artwork at affordable prices,” she said hurriedly. “How may I…help…you?” 

Joyce trailed off as she took in the sight in front of the visitor standing in the gallery lobby. The visitor was a young, pale woman whose dark hair had been stuck onto the top of her crimson halter top by the rain, her bangs almost hiding the lace choker around her neck. She was carrying what Joyce thought looked like a Victorian grave doll in her arms, and the rainwater pooled off her onto the floor.

“Miss Edith wanted to look at the pretty pictures,” the young woman said, gesturing to the doll in her arms. “I told her she could, but only if she ate her supper like a good girl.”

“I’m…glad she did?”

The woman nodded. “So is she. I’d have cut her head off if she hadn’t.”

“Miss Edith can look at the paintings as much as she likes,” Joyce said, forcing herself to smile. “Would you like me to get you a towel to dry off, Miss…?”

“No thank you,” the woman said as she began to walk through the gallery, leaving small puddles trailing after her. “And you may call me Drusilla.”

 _What an odd name._ “Well, Drusilla, if you have any questions, I’ll—”

“How lovely,” the woman said, heading towards a painting off in the corner. “Are those ships?’

“Ah, yes, that is a painting of the Battle of Monterey,” Joyce said, getting up from behind her desk to hurry after the other woman.

Drusilla hummed. “Not a very bloody painting is it?” she asked.

“It was an unopposed takeover,” Joyce explained. “The soldiers had gone to Los Angeles ahead of time, leaving the fort empty for the Americans to claim.”

“Oh, they had gone to a party!” Drusilla said as she walked away. “I do so love parties.”

“Don’t-don’t we all?” Joyce said, walking after her. “Is there a particular type of painting you and Miss Edith are looking for?”

“Something to hang in our new home,” she said. “We’re moving, you see.”

“Oh.”

“I hadn’t wanted to,” Drusilla said, sounding sad, “but the wind said I must. And we mustn’t upset the wind.”

“No we mustn’t,” Joyce said, hoping her voice didn’t sound strained. “So, something for a new home.”

“Yes. Something that doesn’t die when I touch it.”

“Oh, that won’t be—”

“Spike only brought me things that died,” Drusilla interrupted. “Like birds and flowers.”

“He-he did?” Joyce stammered. _This must be Spike’s Drusilla, _she realized.

“My little bird was kind enough to look after me while I was ill,” Drusilla was saying, “but he was very naughty, and so I’ve thrown him over.”

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said, cautiously taking another half step back.

“It’s alright,” Drusilla said. “He forgot to bring me cake.”

“Oh.”

“And he won’t admit he loves the Slayer,” Drusilla continued, pausing before a small painting of a lighthouse.

“The Slayer?” _Please let her not mean Buffy, please_ -. 

“Mmhmm,” Drusilla said. “Miss Edith saw him sneak out last night to chat with her, and I will not encourage such behavior.”

“That is a wise decision,” Joyce said, noting to herself to be sure to talk with her daughter about where she had been last night. “I know I didn’t with my ex-husband.”

“You were scorned?” Drusilla gasped, looking at Joyce surprised. “How horrible!”

“It happens,” Joyce said with a shrug,” but I managed. I mean, I got this gallery out of it.”

“You made him pay then.”

“Oh yes,”

“Good,” Drusilla said firmly as she began walking towards another painting.

“I am sorry though.” Joyce said, walking behind her. “That it happened to you, I mean.”

“Not as sorry as he’ll be,” Drusilla muttered. “I will haunt him to the ends of the earth. Oh, this is very lovely!”

 

“It’s a very nice painting,” Joyce said. “An original piece.”

“The ladies want to help, but they don’t know what to bring, do they Miss Edith?” Drusilla said. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.”

“Now, that one costs-”Joyce said, stopping in shock as she watched the girl rip the painting off the wall, holding it with her free hand. “Ah, do you want a bag for that?”

“No bag. Thank you for the painting!” Drusilla called behind her as she walked quickly to the front of the store and pushed the door open. “Oh, and do check out your head,” she added as walked off into the downpour. “Miss Edith says it’s bleeding, and you mustn’t let the blood ruin the paintings!”

Joyce stared after her as the door slammed shut.

“So that happened,” she said at last. “Okay. Okay,” she said reassuringly. “Let’s just...get a mop. Yes. Yes, let’s just mop up.”


End file.
